It's Late
by ezekihal
Summary: Christmas:AU Family/Romance/Humour - The Winchester family have decided to have their annual seasonal gathering at Dean's humble home. Sam is a hot-shot lawyer, Dean a Mechanic and the brothers lead very different lives. Things take an interesting and unexpected turn when ex-solider Cas shows up. DESTIEL, Sam/Jess
1. Chapter 1

_**Author Note:**_

Basically this all began because my wireless mouse ran out of battery and I had no more batteries. I only know a limited variety of keyboard short-cuts and this is what I could accomplish.

This was supposed to be a fluffy-Destiel-AU for Christmas, I don't know where I lost control.  
Basically – no hunting – Mary died in a fire in 1982. The first episode didn't happen, but they'd be season 9's age. So Dean is 35 and Sam is 31.

This is my first Supernatural Fic (That I have bothered to Publish) - It would be absoulutley fantastic if you could offer your opinions on it! It's been a while since I published anything.

Destiel! - Don't like, Don't read.

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** It's Late**

_Chapter One  
_

Dean heaved the oversized tree into his home, cursing Sam for making him have their annual family gathering in his small dwelling. He would have been satisfied in solitude, alone with a beer in front of the T.V. But it was not the Winchester way.

He set the undecorated evergreen next to the fireplace. Every year at Christmas, he wondered if the whole tree idea was the revelations of a drunken madman who'd decided to chop down a tree and bring it inside where he could decorate it and shower it with gifts. It was a dead thing from outside, it sprinkled pine needles everywhere, and it smelt funny. It was a strange tradition. Y'know who celebrated Christmas with a tree? Crazy people!

Nonetheless the bare greenery stood in his living room in a plant pot despite its lack of life. He had been talked into this madness.

Sam and Jess would be arriving immanently; he'd really left it late until he'd brought the blasted tree indoors, but he supposed the kids could be entertained with the prospect of tinsel for a few hours.

"Uncle DEAANN!" squealed an excited 7-year old,

"Jono-boy!" Dean knelt to the little guy's level and small arms flung around his neck. It was remarkable how much Jonathan looked like Sam when he was younger except with blond hair, like his mother.

Annie, their second child, was four and far shier than her brother. She held tight of her mother's hand as Sam battled with their luggage.

Dean winked at his favourite niece, earning him a broad grin instantly; he ruffled the boy's hair and stood back up.

"Welcome." Dean said, regretfully with a slight bitterness, as he moved out of the way for Sam to dump their stuff.

"What, how long are you staying? A week?" Dean joked as Sam fumbled about with more things.

Jessica looked momentarily panicked, which caused Dean's smile to grow wider.

"Don't worry, he's just messing with you." Sam interrupted.

"Oh, yeah." Dean said smugly, "You are staying for a week."

Jessica smiled politely, still not accustom to Dean's sense of humour 100% of the time.

"Anyway" Dean said, breaking the ice, "pleasant trip?"

"Not too bad. Kids slept most of the way which was…peaceful."

Suddenly, the undecorated Christmas decoration caught Jonathan's eye and he bounded into the living room. Letting go of her mother's hand, Annie followed with quiet curiosity.

"It looks strange." Jonathan announced as the adults followed the children,

"Right!?" Dean agreed enthusiastically, to which his niece and nephew giggled. Sam also chuckled at him.

"Wha'd-ya think It needs?" Dean asked playfully as he walked over to them, crouching to their height once again, "A woolly hat?" Both Jonathan and Annie shook their heads.

"No?" Dean looked dramatically puzzled, "A beard? Some pumpkins? A trumpet?" And then in a hushed whisper, "A mince pie?" Dean mocked horror at the thought of giving away a pie to the tree. They frantically shook their heads again, gracing him with dimpled grins.

"Oh." Dean hummed.

"Decorations silly!" Jonathan burst, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Yeah, well. That was gonna be my next guess." Dean pointed at each of the children in turn, "Stay here, I'll get them."

His Christmas shopping last week had consisted of a list of decorations, specifically bought for this occasion. Dean carried a large cardboard box into the living room, with decorations overflowing.

He placed the box in front of them proudly. "Hey-Presto!"

"Do you have an Angel?" Annie asked bashfully, pointing to the top of the tree.

Dean looked a little miffed, "No sweetheart," Dean said sadly, "But I do have a star!" He added quickly, hoping that it would do just as well, "-just like you." And Dean tapped her nose. She smiled up at him, a star would do just fine.

"Now, me and your Daddy need to get you guys settled in. Are you going to do an awesome job with that tree or what?"

"Mommy's gonna help with the high bits, okay?" Sam said as he wandered back into the living room.

They nodded simultaneously, grinning into the treasure chest of decorations.

•••

The kids had decorated the tree and pretty much the entire room with tinsel, lights and ball-balls. They'd even decorated the cardboard box with wrapping paper and cut out stars. With a little help from Jessica, the tree looked fairly impressive – they even added some of their own, hand-made decorations. Now they slept in what, this time yesterday, used to be a study. Or a room that Dean just dumped things he didn't know what else to do with.

Dean relaxed back into his sofa, resting his feet on the coffee table. He did have a matching footrest but it had been abducted for tree decoration purposes, not that he really used it anyway.

"What-we watching?" Sam asked as his large frame was dumped next to Dean.

"I think we just caught the tail-end of 'It's a wonderful life'."

A man on the T.V. was yelling "Merry Christmas!" randomly, through snowy streets.

"Well, he seems to be in the Christmas cheer." Jess noted. Sam shuffled up on the sofa to make room for his wife.

Dean flicked through the channels, not really wanting to find anything interesting; otherwise he just wouldn't be very social. In the end he settled for a stand up comedy show, and lowered the volume. He grabbed the pot of peanuts that had been on the coffee table and shoved a handful in his mouth.

"Could you get any less gross?" Sam disapproved.

"My house, my rules Sammy."

Sam sniggered, "What rules?"

"No one ever eats my pie – and absolutely no rap music. " Dean said without thought, cramming his mouth with more peanuts, making both Jess and Sam laugh. He might have said 'No Christmas trees' but for the fact he was looking at one.

They talked into the night and Jess glowed with pride as she spoke about Sam's promotion. The law firm were discussing making him a named partner. Dean grunted periodically about his rock-star life as a mechanic.

Since bobby, who had been a dear family friend, had passed a year ago in a hunting accident, Dean had taken control of Singer's auto repair yard. Uncle Bobby had left the business to him, as he'd had no family of his own. Dean had been like a son to him.

Sam talked proudly about his children and their school's nativity play. Jonathan had been one of the three wise men and Annie had been a sheep.

"You should settle down, get married. Have kids. You're so good with them." Jess said to Dean.

Dean couldn't picture it, his own rug-rats running around causing chaos. He smiled knowingly, that life wasn't for him. Besides he was scared stiff that he would turn into his own father, something he was incredibly proud of Sam for overcoming.

John Winchester had spiralled out of control after the tragic death of their mother, thankfully the boys had bobby. Who, ironically, hadn't had children of his own for the same reason – his father had been a violent drunk.

They caught up with one another's lives until around midnight, which was late enough for Sam and Jess who'd spend the majority of the day travelling.

So gallantly, Dean had surrendered his double bed for Sam and Jess – A noble offering if ever there was one. He had taken the spare room as it only held a single bed and there was only one of him.

When he'd said his dwellings were small, he hadn't been exaggerating, and yet his brother had insisted that they come to his for the holiday season.

•••

Dean opened a single eye, lying awkwardly on the spare bed. Then he heard it again, a tapping. He looked across at his alarm clock, grumbling incoherently.

"4 –am, really?"

He got to the front door, with his brow furrowed. And with an irritated expression, he angrily snatched the door open, fully intending to yell at the person on the other side.

"I'm sorry to –" The fame of a broken man stood wearily before Dean, bleeding into his trench coat. He put his hand heavily on the doorframe to support himself. "– Dean?" He rasped in confusion. Suddenly the blood stained and beaten man collapsed in his doorway.

"Cas?" Dean didn't know the man well, just enough to recall his name – or part of it at least. Cas was an ex solider; he'd fought on the front lines in Afghanistan, Dean had worked on his motorbike a couple of times and his sister ran the bar that he frequented.

He couldn't just leave him out there, so Dean looked around to make sure that the trouble Cas had gotten himself into hadn't followed him, and then pulled him inside and out of the cold. He was smaller than Dean was, but it was obvious that the man was strong. It must have taken a great amount of force to make him look like a pit-bull's chew toy.

The unconscious man was carefully dumped on the sofa; Dean thoughtfully stood over him. _What else could he do?_ He draped a blanket over him and proceeded into the kitchen to make himself a coffee, he couldn't go back to bed with a stranger in his living room.

_Dean's humble abide, open to all, lawyers and strays alike._ Dean thought bitterly as he aimless stirred his coffee and then he ventured back into the living room perching himself on the footstool.

Sam must have heard the commotion and he himself had gone to investigate, hoping his children hadn't been the cause. Sam glanced from Dean to the bloody man and back again and mouthed, "Who is that!" at Dean. It was written all over his face; 'can't we have one Christmas without any drama?' It was an irritated look.

Dean resisted the urge to shrug, as that would earn him no brownie points with his brother. In that case, Dean had either drunkenly beaten up the poor guy with no recollection of it or he'd let a strange beaten up guy in. None of which would be favourable in Sam's eyes. He could be dangerous his wife and children were staying here.

"Cas," Dean answered in a low tone so as not to disturb Mr Comatose, "his sister runs the Tavern, he was discharged last year from Afghanistan." He whispered, eluding the fact that it had actually been Anna, his sister that had told him this. "He just sort of turned up and collapsed." Dean explained, flailing his arms out, questioning Sam 'what was he was expected to do?'

Sam nodded, still wary of the bloodied stranger, but nonetheless left Dean to watch over him while he blundered back to bed.

Cas was only out for about half an hour; he bolted upright, panicked and unfamiliar with his surroundings. He winced with pain but did not let so much as a whimper pass his lips.

"Whoa there buddy, it's okay." Dean said, trying to reassure him.

"Dean?" Cas strained.

"Yeah," Dean said absently, "What the hell happened man?"

"Some thugs ran me off my bike,"

"That did this to you?" Dean said, pointing at a particularly bad looking wound on his face, "No offence, but you look worse than a rhino's ass."

"Thanks," Cas said, dabbing his hand lightly at his face and looking back at it, he discovered blood. Cas shuffled to the edge of the sofa putting his hands on either side of him, so as evenly distribute is body weight in getting up.

"Y'know, you should probably just stay there." Dean advocated, as though it was most obvious thing to do.

He sighed as Cas ignored him, and he himself got to his feet.

"Okay then," quietly escaped Dean's lips.

The seemingly weak and damaged man heaved himself up; he was stronger than he looked and Dean was mildly impressed. He was obviously determined.

"Well let's get your sorry ass patched up then," Dean suggested, "Kitchen's this way," He added, not allowing room for protest and he led the way.

Cas looked around, considering escape, but he didn't feel particularly great, Dean was being kind and offering his hospitality. Who was he to look a gift-horse in the mouth? So without objection he followed.

Dean crouched in search of his first aid kit under the sink, while Cas propped himself against the counter, not willing to lose his balance and end up sprawled on the hard tiled floor. He wasn't really a band-aid sort of person. Like Dean, he'd usually knuckle down and bear through the pain.

In mild embarrassment, Dean shoved the box of Mr Men plasters to the back of the cupboard. Cas smirked, as he'd seen but he said nothing. They had been an investment of a few years ago when Jonathan had fallen over and cut himself – Mr Bump had been an essential.

Dean pulled from the box antiseptic wipes, and presented them to Cas, who looked rather un-amused, as he knew it was going to sting.

He ripped open the packet and lightly dabbed the wipe to his face, wincing because he could not see what he was doing, however again manning up to the pain and not making a sound.

Searing pain ran hot through his face as he prodded a wound he didn't realize he had. Catching him by surprise, he jerked the wipe away from his face and scowled at it.

"Here," Dean offered, and Cas dumped the wipe in the hands of the Winchester. Cleaning up the wounds of his face, Dean worked delicately; careful not to make the same mistake Cas had moments earlier. He had an advantage; he could see what he was doing.

Cas' clothes were bloodied, and he had sustained other injuries beneath his trench coat, but he was feeling much better.

"Weren't you wearing leathers?" Dean asked trying to recall whether or not he had been in the protective gear in the few times their paths had crossed before.

"I wasn't going anywhere fast," Cas offered with a shrug, "or very far." but he wasn't as humble as Dean would have expected. He wasn't a stereotypical biker either; he didn't have torn leathers, tattoos or a beard. Cas took pride in his appearance and he rode a motorcycle because he enjoyed it.

Dean vaguely remembered Cas would wear a leather jacket, but not leather pants. At the time, he'd actually reminded Dean of Steve McQueen from the Great Escape without the mud stained face.

Washing the blood away, he sponged a damp cloth over Cas' face in deliberate motions and once he'd finished, Cas looked human again.

•••

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**_Author Note #2:_**

_**If you haven't heard it, you might like to listen to __"It's late"_ By Queen. It's the story's name sake.**

Hope you guys like it, I'd love some feedback! Merry Christmas,

C.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author**_** Note:**

A massive thank-you! to those have already reviewed, I really do appreciate it. I was going to publish this yesterday, but tumblr distracted me. ~ Enjoy.

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_**It's Late**_

_Chapter Two_

To err on the side of caution, Dean had taken Cas to the hospital once the sun had risen. Cas hadn't been that fond of the idea and insisted that he was feeling better. Dean had somehow managed to persuade him, the image of the unconscious, bloody and beaten man lying in his doorway profoundly vivid in his mind.

He drummed his rough hands on the top of the steering wheel in boredom, patiently waiting for Cas' return in the parking lot of the medical centre.

He hit the radio, and seasonally "Last Christmas" began to play into the Impala. Groaning and with a roll of his eyes, he flipped an AC/DC tape into the cassette player and listened to the familiar rhythm of "thunderstruck" instead of festive cheer.

Over an hour had passed before Cas sluggishly returned to the Car. Dean had dosed off at some point and was again awoken by Cas tapping, this time on the Impala's window. It wasn't locked, Cas was being polite and Dean waved him in.

Suddenly Cas felt overwhelmed by guilt, the reason Dean was desperately trying to discourage a yawn was on his account, and it was because of him that Dean was here now.

"How'd it go?" Dean asked, genuinely concerned.

"Good," Cas said, reluctant to divulge any further.

To quickly get passed the fact that he'd over reacted somewhat, Dean announced "Well, s'better to be safe than sorry."

"I have 5 stitches in my side, they glued a gash in my head back together and I have 2 cracked ribs." Cas said sorely. "Gave me some pain medication too."

Dean nodded, suppressing the childish urge to say _'I told you so.'_

"Full leathers from now on?" Dean settled on instead. Cas gave a single nod; little did Dean know that he'd been beaten up before they ran him off the road. He hadn't had time to exchange his trench coat for his jacket.

He dropped Cas off at his home, with arrangements for the collection of his bike. Dean was to pick it up with a truck from the repair yard and to take it back there to be looked at after Christmas.

Cas apologised and thanked Dean again for his hospitality, which he had brushed off instantly.

"If you're around later, I'll probably go and visit Anna, my sister - who runs the-"

"Tavern." Dean finished with a fond smile.

"Yeah, I know you're being all modest and everything, but I figure I at least owe you a beer."

"Can't argue with that."

"6 o'clock alright for you?"

"Perfect."

"Bye Dean," Cas said, carefully hoisting himself out of the car.

"See-ya later, Cas." Dean honked a couple of times on the horn and waved his hand out of the window as he left.

Cas stood there for a moment and wondered if Dean actually knew that his name was Castiel. It was the first time he'd been addressed in that way.

"Cas." He whispered to himself, he couldn't say he minded it.

•••

"Where did you go Uncle Dean?" Dean was bombarded with the excitement of children as soon as he opened his own front door. Jonathan was looking up expectantly at him.

"Uncle Dean's friend needed my help." Dean said.

Jono asked the never-ending children's question of "why?"

"Because he was silly and didn't wear the right protective clothing on his motorbike and hurt himself when he came off."

Jono looked mischievously up him, but Dean interrupted before he could say anything.

"If you say why again, I'm going to tickle you until you turn blue," Dean playfully threatened.

"Wh-"

Dean pretended to lunge forward and little Jonathan ran off giggling.

"How's your friend doing?" Jess asked, "I heard about this morning."

"Cas is doing okay, some thugs ran him off his bike." Dean explained and then with a fondness, "Ex solider, he'll manage."

"Lucky it happened near here." Jess said, "I mean you live in the middle of nowhere, it was good he knew he could come to you."

"Lucky" Dean repeated absently. Cas had been surprised to see him; he'd simply stumbled upon the closest door.

"You look like crap," Sam said as he emerged from the kitchen.

"Thanks, Little brother, it's these endearing, heartfelt moments that make us so close."

"You're an ass"

"I know." Dean smiled with pride.

Annie came running into the hallway, calling for her Daddy.

"What is it sweetheart?" Sam scooped her up into his arms where she nuzzled into his chest.

He stroked her dark hair that came to her shoulders, Dean's best guess was that she'd panicked when she lost sight of her parents; after all it was a strange place.

"Alright kiddo?" Dean said, Annie timidly smiled at him and nodded, "That's my girl!" Dean said enthusiastically, and she grinned, she began to squirm and then Sam put her down, running to her brother.

"What's the plan for today then?" Dean asked, hoping that it wasn't something too strenuous. He'd already had a fairly busy day, venturing to the hospital, taking Cas home and then picking up his motorbike – which hadn't been as damaged as he'd imagined, not after seeing the state Cas was in.

"We were thinking about taking the kids to visit-" Jessica lowered her voice "Santa."

"Right, and I though we could eat at the Tavern tonight," Dean added, "about 6-ish? And then that way we don't need to worry about cooking."

"Yeah," Jess said seeing no problem with the suggestion.

"Where's Santa?" having not really researched the topic.

"The north pole." Sam chimed in sarcastically and then he grinned like a Cheshire cat at Deans eye roll.

There was a department store a few towns over that hired a Santa to give out presents to kids. It was a money-grabbing scheme, but it was nice for the children.

Dean had offered to drive, but Sam had wanted to take his 2013, S class Merc. Dean couldn't argue – she was a stunning car, if not a pricey one. It didn't have character like his "Baby" – a beautifully kept 1967 Chevy Impala – but then nothing did.

Jessica and the kids sat in the back.

"Let's put something decent on…" Dean leant forward to change the music from festive nonsense to something a little more tasteful, but his hand was slapped away by Sam.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole." The kids in the back-seats giggled as Sam mimicked Dean's words from years ago, who of which was trying to hide an enormous grin.

"Sammy, that's my line." Dean said with a slight smirk.

Sam fully expected Dean to change the station anyway, and be a rebellious son of a bitch. But Dean did not; he sat there and endured the Christmas cheer. It was a long car journey.

They spent the day out, visiting Santa and shopping.

Dean was surprised, not that the children weren't usually impeccability well behaved, but they'd gone through the last couple of days without a hiccup. Which probably meant, they'd play up later. But they'd had a busy day; all the excitement had worn them out for now.

Jonathan leant on the door and Annie leant on her brother as Sam drove his tired family home. It was an adorable sight, and it reminded both Winchester brothers of themselves when they were younger.

Once they were home, Jessica took the children inside while Dean helped Sam with the various bags of shopping.

The tavern wasn't a particularly fancy place, but the food there was pretty good. Dean quite regularly went there for dinner. He'd sit at the bar, after a long day at the garage working on some rust bucket that barely passed for a car, and order a cheeseburger and fries.

He didn't usually shower or change clothes before going there; he would go straight after work in his oil-blackened overalls. No one minded and he wasn't trying to impress anyone. But today he jumped into the shower, and wore decent clothing; a green military-style jacket of which he bought earlier in the day, a plain grey t-shirt and a blue shirt. It felt strange to dress up for a place he frequented so regularly when he usually looked like an early 1900's chimney sweep.

Jessica had changed into a pretty dress for the occasion and Sam had put on a V-neck t-shirt and an over shirt, both dressed in what they perceived to be casual. It was casual, but even their everyday clothes were expensive, that was down to the pay-check that came with Sam's Job.

Dean smiled, somehow underneath all his layers he felt under-dressed in the company of his brother's family, with even the children in expensively labelled clothing.

Dean had never wanted that life; he was clever enough, though he pretended that he wasn't by misbehaving in school and not participating in class work. Sam had gone off to do his own thing, and being one of the top lawyers in New York certainly had its advantages. Dean liked his life, his garage, the repair yard, and his small house. It was homely with sentimental possessions and old things. Sam's place had no character, no personality; it was just new and expensive. That job had taken his soul.

Don't get him wrong, Dean was extremely proud of his little brother, you didn't get to where Sam was by being good, you had to be exceptional. It was just that sometimes Dean wished he could have back the fun-carefree brother he'd grown up with. Nowadays he always had something on his mind, and his thoughts were never too far away from work. He put the weight of the world on his shoulders.

•••

A few regulars perched on barstools around the bar of the Tavern, a couple more shooting pool.

As the Winchester's walked in Anna playfully whistled at Dean, approving of the no-grease, no-oil look. Dean managed to give her a sarcastic nod.

Obviously, the bar primarily being for adult entertainment, Anna could not guarantee that it would be a foul-language free environment. But with that in mind, she gave the family the table in the furthest corner, so at least the children would be out of earshot.

Dean nodded in appreciation and followed his brother's family to the table.

"Oh, and Dean," Dean turned back to the red head. "My brother told me what you did, and I just wanted to say thank-you."

"No problem," Dean said with a genuine smile, but he hadn't thought that it had been a big deal. Obviously, it had meant a lot to his favourite bar maid.

He joined his brother at the table; he was slightly early for his meeting with Cas, but then the children needed to be fed and in bed by 7:30.

Dean hadn't realised that he'd been watching the door until Cas entered the bar, he greeted Anna with a grin. Anna smiled and then nodded in Dean's direction. Dean suddenly looked at Sam's beer mat, so he wouldn't be caught daydreaming in a world of his own. He coughed awkwardly and began to talk to Sam about his Merc. Sam happily divulged into an in-depth answer immediately before Cas approached the table. They could have been discussing cars for hours.

Dean pretended to notice Cas in the bar for the first time, and greeted him as such.

"How're you doing?"

"I'm managing," Cas answered as honestly as he could. "You?"

His response brought a smile to his lips; he'd told Jess exactly that, _'he'll manage.'_ "Not bad,"

Cas nodded, not knowing what Dean was amused about but returned a small smile anyway.

"You're bike's at the repair yard. It's really not in that bad shape." Cas' muscles tensed and he went slightly rigid, Dean had been about to say how'd he'd expected it to look like scrap metal wrapped around a tree. Cas, looking like a mangled chew toy, had come out of that end of the deal far worse. Instead he supposed, observing Cas' sudden discomfort, "you'll both be on the road in no time."

Cas relaxed with a sigh, "Thank-you Dean, I can't express how grateful I am."

"It's nothing," Dean insisted, "Don't worry about it."

"I'm gonna get a round in, want a beer?" Sam asked, Dean wasn't one to turn down alcohol and so he nodded vaguely. Sam turned to Cas who declined.

Sam made his way to the bar. He had to wait to be served, though it wasn't busy, Anna was the only one working.

"Hey," she said sweetly, "What can I get you?"

"3 bottles of colt 45 & 2 orange fruit shoots, thanks." Sam aimlessly drummed his fingers on the bar, "Doesn't Cas drink?"

Anna had to look up; she'd no idea who he was talking about, "My brother?" She asked and Sam nodded. "Yeah, he doesn't like to hit the liquor too heavy though." She shook her head with a smile, "Cas?" She asked sceptically, "no one ever calls him that."

"My brother does." Sam said, digging out his wallet from his back pocket.

"Oh" Anna said suggestively, raising her eyebrows, but Sam did not clock on to what exactly she was suggesting.

"How much do I owe you?"

Anna leant forward and forced his hands to close the wallet. "It's covered." She nodded to Dean and Cas who were now throwing darts at a tatty board.

Sam opened his mouth to protest but Anna interrupted before he could speak, "It was below freezing last night, what your brother did - it probably saved Castiel's life. He knows it, I know it, we've got it, okay?"

"Thanks," Sam gave a nod in gratitude, suddenly feeling shameful for the way he'd behaved. He'd basically wanted Cas gone from the moment he heard the commotion at 4o'clock in the morning. He straightened up in defence of his own thoughts, as though everyone heard his admission. Well, Castiel could have been_ anybody._

It just so happened that he turned out to be a pleasant human being.

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**_Author Note #2 _**

Again, I would absolutely love it, if you'd be kind enough to review. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author_ Note:**

Sorry It's been a few days, Christmas sort of got in the way. Ironic seeing as this is a Christmas fic. I'm not sure if i'm particually happy with this chapter but I keep changing it and am never satisfied. I wanted to keep Sam in character from what I've already written but leave it open for development. _Merry Christmas!_

* * *

_Chapter Three_

Cas sat, and ate his meal with the Winchesters. When he'd said that he'd not eaten he found them very insistent. They'd all finished, and the children were starting to get tired and teasey.

"Daddy, How long we gonna be here?" Jonathan had whined, "I'm bored."

"I'm bored." Annie repeated, "I'm bored. I'm bored."

Before either parent could tell the children to be quite and start behaving, Cas pulled out a quarter, each children looking intently at it.

It disappeared, and Cas looked shocked, pretended to blame Jonathan, and pulled it from behind Annie's ear. They both began giggling and suddenly the whining stopped and the boredom ceased. Annie's little hands even flew to behind her ears, just to make sure there were more coins.

Cas then played the game of 'which hand is it in?' Sometimes the coin disappeared; sometimes it was behind Jonathan's ear, sometimes behind Annie's. He had been sat next to Dean for the meal, and purely for variety, Cas carefully reached up to Dean's ear, brushing past it slightly with the cuff of his shirt, lingering a little longer than necessary for suspense, and dramatically pulled out the coin.

"How'd you do that?" Jonathan asked, mesmerised by the coin, not so much as blinking to take his eyes of it.

"Magic." Cas said in a way, which had been very matter of fact.

"Were'd you learn?"

"Hogwarts." Cas said seriously, he leant forward intently "Hogwarts, Hogwarts Hoggy-Hoggy Hogwarts." he sing-songed.

Dean smiled, when the children giggled, he had been right; they had played up when he thought, but they'd been easily amused.

Half an hour after the first whine, with no more than a glance in one another's direction, Sam and Jess decided that it was time to go, though the children's behaviour was angelic, it was veering dangerously close to bed time.

Cas turned to Dean expectantly, hoping he'd stay – But he knew Dean didn't owe him anything. In fact he would probably be glad to see the back of the wounded soldier. He and his family could enjoy their Christmas in peace.

"Another?" Anna had asked as she cleared glasses from the table by the pool table.

"We're off actually," Jessica said sweetly putting a hand on her son's shoulder who craned his neck to look up at her. "It's been a long day."

Anna hummed in agreement and then turned to Cas, an eyebrow raised as the same question applied to him.

He was about to decline when Dean slapped him lightly on the back - very lightly in complete awareness of Cas' fragile body.

"Sammy," he'd said looking at his brother,

He was tired and agitated "It's _Sam_." Sam had mumbled under his breath. Jessica squeezed hold of his arm a little tighter; he just wanted to have heard the last of the childish endearment.

Dean, in shock stepped back a little, Sam hadn't any qualms about the nickname so far this year. He pretended that he hadn't heard – though it hurt. It was easier that way. Besides, they'd been getting on so well, he didn't want to jeopardise their Christmas over a nickname.

"You want to stay." Sam said accusingly, not as a question but as a resentful statement.

As a matter of fact Dean had been going to ask what the plan was for the rest of the evening. He'd only have stayed if they were too tired to socialise at home. Or maybe Cas could go back with them.

Dean make a face in denial, though genuine Sam let out a sceptical sigh. Sam could have ranted about how'd he'd made the effort to come and see Dean, about how he had other priorities, about what family meant, but he did not.

He could hardly tell his brother what to do, it was Christmas, it was his brother's house, and Sam had practically forced himself an invitation here. You'd have thought it would have been easier to get an audience with the Queen of England than to see Dean for Christmas, King of solitude.

"I am _not_ coming to pick you up at 3 in the morning."

He was tempted to say 'see you at half two then' in light humour with a cheeky grin, but Dean would never have treated his little brother like that, and before he realised that the original approach was to go home with the rest of his family, "I'd get a cab." passed defensively through his lips.

Dean looked somewhat defeated as his brother left, he almost seemed to storm out. That hadn't gone as either of them had planned and both were too stubborn to see what the other actually meant. Cas smiled awkwardly at him in encouragement, and they made their way to the bar. Dean settled in his usual chair with armrests at the end of the bar, and Cas perched on the stool next to him.

He motioned to Anna that he'd like a couple beers for Cas and himself and put a bill on the bar. He didn't even really want to be here, not with things unresolved.

Dean downed his drink in no time at all, while Cas had barely had two sips from his own bottle. He could tell that Dean hated this miscommunication with his brother and he was doing himself no favours by drowning his sorrows of a petty disagreement.

Dean wasn't drunk, actually there were barely any alcohol-induced behaviours, but he'd still had too much to drive – Not that he had a car at the Tavern. He'd arrived in Sam's Merc and Sam had left.

"You look exhausted." Cas said, sipping at his beer.

"You're not the first to tell me that today." Dean said as he concentrated on the bill that he'd put on the bar for the beers.

"Yes," Cas said, and then sadly he added, "and it's my fault too."

"Wasn't your fault." Dean refuted, "Hey Anna, you're slacking," He raised his voice so as it would reach the redhead standing across the bar, he then held up the money.

She smiled and then shook her head, allowing for her brother to explain,

Cas pushed his hand down; "It's her way of repaying you – for what you did."

"But-"

"No," Cas interrupted with authority, in a way Dean hadn't heard from Cas before. He was left no time to make excuses, and mildly stunned by the power in Cas' voice.

"She insisted," Cas continued "and I owe you more than a couple of beers." He lifted his bottle slightly and gestured it to Dean. Dean rolled his eyes to the celling and then held his gaze there for a few seconds.

Dean Winchester did not need handouts.

The bar was quite, Anna had popped out for a quick smoke and told Cas to keep an eye on the bar should anyone else turn up.

"So," Dean began carefully, knowing that the following subject was delicate, "Are you gonna tell me what happened last night?" He studied his friend and then added, "or are you sticking with your BS story?"

Cas had been caught by surprise, he'd thought Dean might have guessed that something was a miss, but he hadn't thought he'd mention it. Why would he? They were nothing to each other.

"I told you what happened," He replied weakly. He hid the truth under the vale of a smile. He didn't want Dean to think any less of him. He didn't want to open up, to uncover his vale. He barely knew the guy.

Dean chuckled to himself "Fair enough."

Cas stared at him, as he didn't push any further. One thing was for certain; Dean Winchester was a hard man to figure out.

Dean had only stayed an hour after Sam left, the longer he left it, the worse the situation would get. The man had come all the way from the big apple to spend the holidays with his delinquent brother.

Chuck, the man who owned the tavern and was some distant relative of the Milton siblings, offered Cas his jeep to give Dean a ride home. Something had cropped up when he wanted to head out for firewood and, Dean living in the same direction Cas offered to pick some up for him.

"Are you sure you're alright to drive?" Chuck asked with concern.

"Yeah." He aired lightly, even if Cas wasn't he wouldn't let anyone know. It wasn't any of their business – except maybe Dean's, as in the event of another crash he would be also effected. Chuck looked to Dean, and Dean nodded that he really didn't care and just wanted to get home. It might have been safer to get a cab, he had even contemplated walking, but since when did Dean Winchester play it safe?

Cas was a soldier, he'd dealt with worse pain on the front line than two cracked ribs, – he'd be absolutely fine. Besides, in a car, Dean's place was only 10minuites away.

•••

The cold weather began to grace Dean's house with snow as they pulled up outside. The majority of the ride had been in silence as Dean had been brooding. Cas hoped Dean would get out of the car quickly before the snow began to make the roads too dangerous. In his condition, he specifically didn't want to drive in the ice. His reactions would be impeccable as usual, but he'd hurt himself in the process of staying safe.

"What am I doing?" Dean asked, resting his head in his hands.

"Apologising," Though Cas hadn't a clue as to what for, it felt like the right thing to say. Sam had stormed out in a hurry; Dean had looked hurt, pissed and guilty all in a single expression. As far as he could gather, Dean had implied that he wanted to stay at the Tavern, and as much as Cas had wanted Dean to desire that, Dean hadn't and had only stayed because he was stubborn. Yes, apologising would probably help.

"Right" Puzzled, Dean glanced across to Cas; perhaps the man was a good judge of character or just good at reading situations.

"He'll understand, you're here now, right?"

"It's my house." Dean's face sank; feeling as though he'd completely ignored Cas. After all Cas had been the one to invite him out, he'd not only taken his family, but had been a recluse for the rest of time.

"Hey, y'know you can come in for a bit if you want. Wait for the snow to stop" He swirled his index finger in the air.

"No, I better not." Cas replied, and Dean looked down with a nod under the pretence that he understood, but actually he just felt guilty.

"I have to get firewood for Chuck," He reminded Dean quietly.

Dean looked out of the window, at the blur of snow falling to the ground and then winced at Cas, the snow was getting heavier, and he thought that Cas was crazy, or really didn't want to come in.

His lips tightened into a smile, Dean thanked him for the ride and hurried to his door, only glancing back when he heard Cas reverse back out onto the road. He prayed that Cas would be all right in this weather.

Jonathan and Annie had gone to bed, so this time as he went through his door, he wasn't bombarded with happiness. Instead he was met with Sam, who looked slightly surprised to see him.

"Look man. I'm sorry for earlier…" Dean began hoping that Sam would interrupt him, with assurances that it was fine. "I've been a miserable son of a bitch the whole time you've been here and it aint fair." Dean didn't see fit to go into any detail about the misunderstanding.

"I'm sorry too man." Sam said, "I've been so swamped at work, I can't see straight."

"Being a hot shot lawyer has it's downsides too." Dean joked,

"Yeah, stressful" Sam sighed, "Oh and about the other night when Castiel was here." _Castiel, that's what his name was._ "I should of – I don't know – Helped or something. It'd been a long drive and –"

"Don't sweat it," Dean said knowing that no one expected him to do anything. Dean had even thought that Sam didn't really even care, he was apparently wrong. "I had it covered, you were tired, stressed."

Sam nodded, appreciating the accuracy of that statement. "Hey, if there's anything I can do, I could use some more pro-bono work."

"I'll be sure to ask him," and Dean made a mental note to do so, he worried for his friend.

* * *

**_Author Note_ #2  
**

Well, as always, I would love to hear your thoughts. Thank-you for reading!

C.


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